


A Helping Hand

by Alethia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Physical Disability, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Snark, just so much porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What, is this a booty call?" Wick joked, just to break the damn silence. Raven's mouth sort of stilled at that...and holy shit. </p>
<p>Holy. Shit. </p>
<p>"Really?" Wick asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after episode 2.04 "Many Happy Returns," supposing the tragedy of 2.05 "Human Trials" hadn't happened. Also over on [LJ](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/690705.html).

Wick frowned at the knock at his door, moving to answer it automatically. It was late, too late for this to be anything good. 

When he opened it, Raven looked up at him, backlit by the eerie blue lights in the hall, all they could get working so far. Even in the low light, Wick could see something stubborn in her jaw. Shit. 

"Look, the condenser on B-dock is gonna be fine," Wick said promptly, before she could berate him for his failings as a scientist, a man, a member of their species.

It was Raven. She went all-in. 

Her frown stopped him short. "I'm not here about the condenser. Wait, what'd you do to the condenser?"

Double shit. "Nothing. I did nothing. I am beyond reproach."

"Wick." Damn. That tone of voice was never a good sign. 

So Wick gave in, waving a hand in a gesture of approximation. "It may temporarily be in tiny pieces."

"Wick! Why didn't you get me?" Because obviously she could fix all ills, or at least all technology ever, even when she totally couldn't because catastrophic failure and oh, yeah, _it wasn't his fault_. 

Not that she'd hear that.

"It's under control. Anyway, what'd you need me for?" he asked, getting back on track. It was late and she was at his door and apparently he wasn't in trouble. Well, he hadn't been.

Raven merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Got anything else to confess?"

Straight-faced Wick shot back: "No, I think I learned that lesson today."

The corner of her lips lifted in a smile—score one for the home team—but it disappeared just as suddenly. She didn't say anything. Instead she stood there and studied him for a moment. 

Wick glanced down at himself. Shirt, pants, boots about ready to give up the ghost. Nope, nothing had changed. There was no reason for her scrutiny. 

Raven opened her mouth to say something—

And then closed it again. Huh. 

The moment became weirdly awkward, for no real reason. 

"What, is this a booty call?" Wick joked, just to break the damn silence. Raven's mouth sort of stilled at that...and holy shit. 

Holy. Shit. 

"Really?" Wick asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. 

"Shut up," she said, automatic. 

"History shows that's never gonna happen." Wick scratched the back of his head as he tried to figure out her angle. "Nope. It still does not compute. Talk it through."

He leaned against the side of his door, eyebrow raised, expectant. He knew how to use his physical presence—to intimidate, to tease. Mostly he didn't have to; everyone knew who he was and what he was about. He was the apprentice to the freaking Chief of Engineering. They knew to get out of his way and let him do his job. 

Except her. She'd just lift her chin and get in his face. From anyone else, it'd be an annoyance.

He'd prefer annoyance. 

Right now, she seemed thrown, eyes tracking down his frame quickly, then moving away, like she didn't want to get caught at something. Well, too late for that. Then determination set in again and she looked back, meeting his eyes squarely. 

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Gonna need some context here." He talked a lot of shit. It could be anything, really. 

"'You gotta enjoy life,'" she quoted, tone dry like the cracked creek bed they'd trekked through yesterday. She'd insisted on going, her "new and improved" brace meaning she didn't have to use a cane. But the journey had been hard on her; he'd noticed more than one bead of sweat trickle from her collarbone down between her breasts. 

Not that he'd been watching. Much. 

And now...huh. He hadn't intended that to be a proposition. He'd kept it all good clean fun. _She_ took it to the sexy place. The distinction seemed important to remember for when this imploded into recriminations and hurt...but that hadn't happened yet, so he should really focus on the here and now. Which included Raven Reyes at his door, literally asking for it. 

Wick still couldn't square that. It didn't seem real. 

But then why not throw down the gauntlet and find out how serious she was?

Wick smirked, lacing it with suggestion. "Damn right. In all its pleasures." He studied her for a moment, seeing the way her eyes widened fractionally. "You really looking to indulge?" He was surprised at how rough that came out, but quickly got distracted by the way she stepped forward, into his personal space. Her eyes wouldn't let him go.

"Invite me in, Wick."

Pretty fucking serious, it turned out. He stepped aside without thought, his brain tripping over the idea that this thing he never expected to happen was happening. And sure, he'd thought about it. What man hadn't entertained the idea of Raven Reyes showing up and demanding to be fucked? She was brilliant and gorgeous and a force of nature. Wick would happily admit he'd imagined multiple variations of this very scenario, but for years she'd used that doe-eyed boy of hers as a human sexual shield. 

He might've said that to her once or twice. She might've thrown a wrench at his head in response. Ahh, the good old days. 

Raven didn't seem hung up about him now, just strode right through the door and shut it behind her. Then she locked it. 

Oh, so it was going to be like that, was it?

Raven wasted no time, crowding in close, reaching for him. He pulled her in, but kept his mouth away, the tiny shred of the gentleman in him rearing up. His mom had sucky taste in politicians, but she did raise him right. "You know what you're asking for?"

"I know what I want," she shot back, voice already husky, and fuck it, Wick was not a man to deny himself. That was enough for him.

Wick crushed their mouths together, one hand snaking around her waist to pull her close, the other cradling her jaw. She sucked in a breath, surprised, maybe, but he just used that to kiss her deeper, tongue darting into her mouth, a tease. 

Raven fell into it, opening her mouth wider, getting a hand around the back of his neck, pulling his head down to hers, closer. No delicate flower here, not that he expected she would be. She tasted like she'd been chewing on licorice. He hadn't liked it when someone had offered last week, but tasting it off her tongue, he could see the appeal. 

He bit her lip to get a jolt, soothed it after he did. Then he pulled back, noting that her eyes had gone dark already. 

"So what _do_ you want?" he asked, voice a dark rumble that elicited a satisfying shiver. 

Raven sucked in another breath, lifting her chin again, like that was a taunt and not a legit request for information. "You know." She pulled off her red jacket, letting it slip to the floor, leaving her in that damn shirt that showed off everything, including her black bra. 

Wick considered her. Back on the Ark, he'd only ever heard about her with Finn, always Finn, never a hint of anyone else. He wondered if it'd only ever _been_ Finn. Until now, until it wasn't, Finn off making googly eyes at the Chancellor's daughter, good luck with that. 

He thought about her intensity, her focus, and wondered if she ever truly enjoyed life, herself. Oh, she certainly enjoyed work. So did he. Building things, fixing things, it could be a fucking rush, he knew better than anyone. 

But so could other things. And if she was here, asking for them, well. 

Wick must have been silent for too long because he saw a thread of self-consciousness enter her eyes, a silent doubt taking hold. So he stopped analyzing and just went with it.

"Damn right, I do," he growled, hauling her close, taking her mouth again in a bruising kiss. She startled briefly, a little sound issuing from the back of her throat, and then she was in it, giving as good as she got. 

Wick shuffled her back, deeper into his quarters until her ass hit the console table where he liked to draft his own personal designs, the ones Sinclair relentlessly mocked. But he could use it for this, too. He pushed her back onto it, moving between her legs, tongue still tangling with hers. 

It might have intimidated some, the way Wick loomed over her, but she just wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned up for his mouth. 

He broke the kiss, surprising himself with how breathless he was, but he ignored that to tug at her shirt. "Off," he said, getting her to lean back. He stripped the shirt quickly, surprised when she shoved his own shirt up in response. 

"Turnabout," she said, shorthand, and he grinned, shucking the shirt overhead and leaning back down. 

Wick availed himself of all the skin to explore as she did the same, her hands moving over his body, relentless, down over his chest to count his ribs, a tease. He didn't let himself fall into it, though, instead concentrating on kissing down her neck to her too-prominent collarbones, following the path those little drops of sweat had taken. He nipped at her skin and she gasped, whole body straining for him, trying to get more. She got a hand back in his hair and pulled, connecting their mouths again, more intense kisses that made even his head swim. 

The button on her pants was no match for him and then he snaked one hand in until he found heat and wetness and she mewled into his mouth, hips bucking.

Wick laughed into the kiss, pressing two fingers inside her, so wet and open and wanting. 

"How long you been thinking about this?" he asked against her mouth, not even bothering to mask the satisfaction in his voice.

"You have a lot to live up to," she growled back.

"Lucky for you, I am the master of exceeding expectations." Wick thumbed her clit, feeling the way she clenched around his fingers, the way her whole body shuddered. This woman hadn't been satisfied in far too long and it suddenly became very important that he rectify such an oversight. 

He pulled away from the kiss, holding himself apart when she tried to follow. No, he didn't want to be distracted, just wanted to watch her reactions as he twisted his fingers. Raven Reyes, pupils blown, lips bruised, was a thing to see, expression completely open, achingly vulnerable, consumed by raw pleasure.

Her eyes met his, widening a little at the scrutiny. "What are you doing?" she asked, voice raspy, like she'd already been screaming. In a good way. 

"Making you fall apart," he said obviously, moving his thumb again, her hips bucking in response.

He leaned over her, cock throbbing insistently in his pants, but he ignored that for now, determined to watch her come from his fingers alone. 

"After all, it's well known that I have great hands," he murmured, slipping a third finger inside her.

Something wordless and wanting sounded low in Raven's throat, seeming to surprise even her. Her forehead creased—in embarrassment or maybe annoyance. She bit her lip, like she wanted to muffle herself, and that had him speaking before he thought it through:

"Hey," he breathed. "Let me hear you."

Raven's eyes flew to his. She gathered herself, licking her lips, something aggressive flaring. "What happened to exceeding expectations?" Her tone said, _I am not impressed._ Her evasion said she didn't want to get into it. 

Fair enough. 

So Wick grinned, light. He was good at light. "It's always the pushback with you." He dipped close for another kiss, working his fingers inside her, quick and unrelenting, meant to spiral her ever higher. Fine tremors started shaking through her, her hips thrusting a counterpoint, eyes wild, cheeks flushed. Beautiful. 

"Come on," he coaxed, thumb on her clit again, Wick feeling sweat prickling along his own spine. 

That was all it took, Raven's hips snapping up, a broken moan falling from her lips. She clenched around his fingers as she rode the orgasm, shuddering, hands gripping him tight enough to bruise, a total fucking mess.

And possibly the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

When she finally slumped back down, her eyes hazy and satisfied, Wick pulled his hand out of her pants and kissed her again, the scent of sex already heavy in the air.

He straightened, looking down at her for a considering moment. "Bed, I think." With that he picked her up and walked them over, setting her down, gentle, clocking how she just went with it, boneless. 

He tried not to smirk, he really did. But Raven allowing that kind of manhandling? Yeah, she must be floating. 

Raven caught it—of course she did—and scoffed at him, weak by her standards. "Don't get cocky."

Wick grinned at her, bright. "Why would I do that? I've just got Raven Reyes in my bed. No big." He tugged off her shoes, tossing them aside one by one. 

Raven actually rolled her eyes at him as she shifted up, hands going behind her to work at her bra. 

Wick just kind of stared at that, struck again that yeah, this was happening. How in the hell—

Raven paused as she raised an eyebrow at his expression, unimpressed. "Really?"

Wick shook himself, flashing another smile. "Hey, I admire beautiful things." He crawled onto the bed, ghosting a kiss over her stomach. 

"You don't need to say stuff like that to me," she said, offhand. 

Wick's head snapped up at that. Huh? Where did that come from?

But Raven didn't meet his eyes at all, looking over her shoulder, still working on the most secure bra in the history of ever. So Wick sat up and touched a finger under her chin, getting her attention. "I call it like I see it," he said, soft, searching her face for something he couldn't name.

She didn't answer for a moment, looking at him with some kind of question, though he had no idea what. She must have found an answer, though, because she just shook her head. "Sap," she accused, but her eyes gave her away, something pleased there. 

"Never said otherwise." He didn't break the gaze, making sure she knew he meant it, before she finally cast her eyes down again, a different kind of flush appearing. 

And that...that was something. Oh, sure, Wick could get women off, could make them moan and beg, breathless and wanting; that was just bodies and experience. But the little thrill of pleasure that came from knowing he could affect her with words alone...that was something else. That didn't happen often.

Of course, it also told him exactly how gone he was. But that was a worry for a stiff drink and another day. 

Raven continued to work on her bra, so Wick took the opportunity to reach for her hair, careful fingers going to the band holding it up. He'd never seen her hair down before. She was always all-business, hair secured away from her face so she could work, could focus. But she must take it down, for herself, maybe for Finn. It was suddenly very important to be in that club. And seeing it fanned out over her naked shoulders seemed like the perfect entrance. 

He tugged, gentle, trying not to pull her hair out in the process. It took a few tries, but the band finally gave way. He tossed it aside as Raven shook her hair out and finally got her bra undone, pulling it down and off. She held his eyes, a touch of hesitance there. 

Wick didn't look down, just leaned in and kissed her like that, one hand twining through her wavy hair, the other cupping a breast, feeling the nipple hard against his palm. Her hands slid over his body again, learning, teasing the sensitive skin along his side, down his spine, igniting heat all the while. 

His breath caught as it flared, reminded him how very hard he was. He pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead against Raven's. "Right. We should really be more naked."

Raven breathed out a laugh, then gestured for him to go ahead. "Hop to it, Romeo." She leaned back and Wick couldn't help the way his eyes tracked the sway of her breasts, his mouth dry. 

He blinked a few times, hard, then turned to her brace. Nakedness. He could make that happen. 

He studied it, tested its hold, analyzing. This was not a case of sex addling his brain. This thing had way too many straps intricately connected to more straps. It was unfair. 

Wick looked up to meet her amused gaze. "Dude, my brace was way simpler."

"Also inferior."

"Your upgrades nuked ease of use," he protested.

"A small price for a better product. Don't worry, you can study this one later. Maybe learn something." She smirked at him and shooed his hands away, reaching for it herself. But Wick didn't miss how her hands trembled, just slightly, and couldn't help his tiny smirk. She probably wouldn't take it well, though, so he focused on shucking his own clothes and crawling back in bed behind her. 

She magically got the brace undone and set it aside, then shimmied her pants and underwear down as far as she could, her leg a dead weight, unresponsive. But the angle was bad and she had shit leverage, so she couldn't get her clothes fully off. And of course she wouldn't ask. 

He reached for them. "Here, let me—"

"Wick—" she protested, but he ignored it, finally pulling her pants off with a delighted flourish. 

She actually smiled at that, albeit grudgingly. 

"You don't have to do everything on your own, you know," Wick said, moving up her body, fingers slipping along an endless expanse of silky skin, trying not to get distracted that holy fuck, he had Raven Reyes naked and smiling in his bed.

"I can handle it," she shot back, arching into his touch. 

He couldn't help it. He leaned down, taking a dusky nipple in his mouth, biting lightly. He pulled back to breathe over it, getting a shiver. "Yeah, well, you can always ask for a...helping hand."

Raven hauled him up at that, taking his mouth in another hard kiss. She pulled back and flashed a cheeky grin at him. "If only I knew someone up to the task." 

"Oh, I'll show you up to the task," he promised, trailing light fingers all over, down between her breasts, over her stomach, then detouring down to her injured leg. At that her smile dimmed, faded, morphing into something vulnerable. A little part of him hated it, that even he could reopen that wound. 

But then, it wasn't about _him_. 

"Hey," he murmured, careful.

"What?" she shot back, her walls back up, distance in her eyes.

"You're gorgeous," he said, because it was fucking true and he couldn't imagine a world where she thought otherwise. "All of you." He held her gaze, then moved down to kiss her leg, staying there, trailing kisses as he followed a path up. She didn't feel it at first, but the look in her eyes was something else. When he finally reached mid-thigh she shivered, the tickle of his goatee making her flush. 

Wick considered how _else_ he could use his goatee to make her flush...then filed that thought away. Maybe later. 

Now her urgent hands pulled him back up, their mouths connecting, hot and impatient. He shifted himself between her legs, his cock pressed against her thigh, and Raven could certainly feel that, moving against him, goading.

"Come on," she said, deliberately echoing him, combative expression hiding something yearning. 

"Let it never be said I keep a lady from what she wants," he shot back, lining himself up.

"Do you want to talk or fuck?" she ground out, harsh, heel pressing into his back, trying to shove him inside her. 

"I'm good at multitasking." Wick slid into her then, one smooth thrust that had her gasping and clutching at his shoulders. He didn't give her time to adjust, simply pulled back and thrust in again, hips slapping into hers. Wick shoved the all-encompassing feeling of _heat_ and _wet_ and _ohgodyes_ to a far corner of his mind, holding off the pleasure to focus on her, only her. 

Raven breathed out every time he seated himself inside her, face a mix of concentration—

But no, something wasn't right. She was tense, even as her body moved in concert with his. Something stiff lived in her shoulders, staying there whether he slowed his pace or sped up. 

So he sank into her and stopped moving entirely. 

It took her a breath, but then Raven realized what was going on. Her eyes flew to his, questioning. "What the fuck?"

"Back atcha. What's wrong?"

"Nothing until you stopped." 

Wick flexed inside her, nerves shot, every instinct screaming that she was right, why was he doing this again? 

But no. He had to focus. "You're lying, I can tell you're lying, so talk to me, Reyes. What is it?"

For a brief moment something despairing flared in her expression, rapidly shifting into uncertainty. "It's fine, it's not—"

"Going for a little more than fine here," he ground out, trying to regulate his breath even as his entire body begged him to _keep moving_.

"I'm just used to being on top," she finally admitted, looking away. Now, given her leg, she wouldn't be able to ride anyone anymore, not like she used to. Wick felt a brief pang of sympathy for what she'd lost...and then shut that right down. They fixed shit for a living; this was nothing. 

"Well, why didn't you say so," he grumbled. He held her close, then rolled them until he was on his back and she was on top of him, the two of them still connected. She didn't weigh enough to be heavy, but he liked the feel of her there, a solid, warm presence. He held her hips so she wouldn't topple over, then sat up, keeping her flush against him. Her whole body had tensed, but she didn't protest, so Wick counted it a win. 

Her uninjured leg automatically braced her on the bed, but the one she couldn't feel stayed as it was. They both reached for it at the same time, hands colliding as they moved to pull it into position. 

"I got it," she said, eyes shifting away, her expression identical to the time she couldn't climb the beacon—shame and frustration and despair. For a moment he ached that he couldn't take it all away from her, that he couldn't fix it so she never had to feel like this again. 

But life wasn't like that and he wasn't one to pretend otherwise. His designs, no matter how elegant, could never restore what she'd lost. All he could do was try to make it a little better. 

Wick didn't let go of her leg, despite what Raven thought she wanted. She would just take it as confirmation, use it as an excuse to keep her distance, convince herself that he wasn't _in this_. Or worse, wanted only the "undamaged" parts, as if they were separable. As if that were a thing. 

Instead Wick helped move her leg, shifting its position until her knee was under her. It wouldn't bear weight...but he could help there, too. "We both got it," he said, tilting his head to catch her eyes. That was her play, he knew, looking away so he didn't see anything she didn't want him to, didn't see inside her head. But he wasn't about to let her get away with it. Any of it. 

And yeah, the fact that he was thinking about all of this? He was so gone. It was kind of sad. 

Wick stroked his hand from her calf up to her thigh, knowing when she began to feel it at the sharp intake of breath. He kept going, stroking up her hip, her ribcage, skirting over the side of her breast, up to her cheek. She didn't look away then, a question in her eyes. "You don't need to hide from me," he whispered. 

She stared at him for a moment and maybe she didn't need to look away to hide because he had absolutely no idea what she was thinking. Then she swayed forward, kissing him softly, searching. With it, her body finally relaxed in his arms, muscles unclenching. She sank onto him, taking him deeper inside, gasping in pleasure against his mouth. 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up, then let gravity do its thing as she sank back down onto him with a groan. Yeah. This would work. 

"A helping hand," she breathed out, head tipping forward as she made a soft sound that took the wind out of him. 

"Damn right," Wick growled, setting up a rhythm. Maybe it wasn't exactly how she was used to it...but it would get them there. And given some time, he could figure out some workarounds, too. 

He quickened the pace, feeling the strain in his arms, but it was worth it to see her expression, completely caught up in the pleasure of it, all raw feeling. He caught her mouth again, holding the kiss. "Yeah?" he breathed against her lips. 

"Yeah," she moaned back, seating herself on him again. All the tension from earlier was gone, replaced by languid, rolling pleasure, so Wick grinned and finally let himself feel this.

They were both sweating, the heat building between them. He watched her eyes, her mouth, as she breathed out gasps and moans, felt the satisfying bounce of her breasts between them as he pulled her down hard. Raven seeking pleasure was a picture of abandon and Wick had to grit his teeth as that really hit home, as the satisfaction of it tingled at the base of his spine.

Wick pressed one hand between their bodies, the shift putting more strain on his other arm but hell, he wasn't gonna last long anyway. His fingers circled her clit again, intent, and she cried out, totally gone, wild hair sticking to her neck and shoulders, flush high on her cheeks. Fuck. _Fuck_. 

He kept working her, feeling her orgasm building in the way she shook against him, pulling her down onto his cock in short, brutal jerks. Finally, she keened high in the back of her throat, muscles fluttering around him. Wick let out a breath and worked her through it, fingers playing over her until she shuddered, oversensitized.

Only then did he let himself go, holding her still and thrusting up into her in four sharp jerks, before losing it, coming on a growl, whiteout in his head and ringing in his ears. 

Then it was just breathing, heart pounding, his own body trembling with it, chest feeling tight. He didn't—he hadn't—

_Fuck_. 

Raven slumped against him, head resting on his shoulder, panting into his ear, her arms now holding him loosely. They stayed that way for a beat, just basking in it, until he tipped them sideways and slipped out of her. She sprawled, boneless, naked and sheened with sweat, the picture of satisfaction. After a moment her eyes fluttered open to look at him.

"I'd call that _meeting_ expectations," she said drily, closing her eyes again. 

Wick scoffed. "You wouldn't say that if you could see yourself right now." He moved her hair out of her face and leaned in close to brush a soft kiss over her mouth. Unsure of its welcome, he drew in a sharp breath when she kissed him back. That was something. Allowing himself just the tiniest bit of hope that this wouldn't end in a cool brush-off, he settled in beside her, one hand flung over her waist, spent. 

Raven stirred after a moment, angling her body toward the door, but Wick rolled closer and clamped his arm around her, grunting a negative. 

"Wick..." she protested, but even he could hear the note of reluctance in it. 

Wick just shook his head. "There's a lot more enjoying to do, I'll have you know."

Raven looked at him with something like surprise, like she hadn't expected him to push. But was maybe a little pleased he had. "Yeah?"

Wick smirked. "Yeah. Besides, I have to exceed expectations. It's a matter of honor," he said, nodding seriously. 

"Well, I'd hate for your honor to take a hit," she said, voice dry as ever. But she turned back toward him and settled close, which said everything he needed to hear. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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